


cayendo

by OfAGroovyMind



Series: Cherik Week 2020 [5]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Erik just wants somebody to love, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Look at Charles, M/M, Past Character Death, Tragic Romance, supernatural elements that cannot be explained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfAGroovyMind/pseuds/OfAGroovyMind
Summary: The obsession started when Erik found a painting of a handsome man whose whole essence questioned his reality.He has since been having dreams of another life.Now the painting is calling out for him.It’s a slow transformation.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Cherik Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770658
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23
Collections: Cherik Week 2020





	cayendo

**Author's Note:**

> Frank Ocean’s Cayendo is quite a lovely song and it’s basically the feel of this fic.

“Are you listening to me?” 

Raven’s voice was strong, but it was not enough to elicit a response from Erik. Her eyes shifted to the centerpiece and she wondered if it was what was causing her friend to act weirdly. She peered at it. It was absolutely stunning. It was of a man whom looked as if he were painted hundreds of years ago. His cobalt eyes and tinted reddish lips were the brightest colors of the whole painting. Earthly darker tones surrounded him. The more she stared, the more she felt as if he threatened to steal your soul away. She shook her head, realizing Erik was still fixated.

“You’re impossible. Do you even know his name?” 

“Charles Xavier. Perfection.” Erik was now delicately pressing his fingers upon the surface of the painting. The textures underneath his fingers were bumpy, and he thought for a brief second that he could almost feel it move. Instead of the rugged feel he expected, he felt smoothness as if it were Charles’ actual face he was touching. Erik quickly took his hand back and stepped away, his heart beating loudly. He was imagining things again. Erik finally looked over at Raven. “Sorry, I get distracted sometimes. What was it about work you were saying?” 

Raven let out a deep sigh and pointed at the papers she had left on his dining room table. She did not want to look at the painting anymore. It was only going to further unsettle her.

“The numbers for this week. Look them over and report back. Also…” She did not want to cross any lines, but she was honestly worried about Erik. He had slowly started to stray from social outings over the last couple weeks. Erik seemed as if he had some troubled nights, unable to properly sleep. It was not fully in her place, yet she needed to say it. “Please take care of yourself.”

She made her way to the door, Erik resuming to stare at the painting once more. What was it about Charles Xavier that hypnotized Erik so profoundly? She might never understand.

The door closed, indicating Raven had left. Erik then leaned back against his couch, his eyes now drawn to the ceiling. Erik had found the painting on one of his work trips. He had been minding his own business when he saw it while taking a long stroll down a market area. It was luring him in and he had a desire to buy it. The woman who sold him the painting refused to answer any questions. She had said it was meant for him, and that the painting was ready to go home after searching for so long. Erik acknowledged he needed it as if he was thirsty and he had been without water for days. Erik didn’t understand it, yet he gave into it. Once he got back to England, he had settled back into his flat, placing the painting on the other side of wall next to his room. There was something intimate about putting it in his bedroom that he was not quite ready to do.

It has been weeks since the dreams started. One factor always remained. Charles Xavier had been in every single one of them. He had obsessively tried to find any information about the painting, on why it existed. Sometimes he thought it moved, and at other times he thought he heard a mellifluous voice calling out to him.

_Erik_ He rubbed his eyes and decided he needed to concentrate on work before heading to bed. He got up to grab the papers and made his way to round the corner to his bedroom door, but not before looking back at Charles. The once smiling man was now slightly frowning. Erik stilled. The painting did that sometimes. He hasn’t been able to find an explanation, but it did raise chills to the surface of his skin. It had frightened Erik the first few days, but now he found comfort that maybe someone was keeping him company. Erik looked down at his papers.

“I’ll be back,” he promised. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Charles was smiling once more. He did not think on it and went to bed.

Once settled, Erik grabbed the laptop and opened it up. The first that popped up had been a tab with a smaller version of the painting. It did not quite have the same enchantment than the original, not when it was trapped in his screen that distilled the coloration. He moved the curser down to reveal the information on the painting itself. It had appeared and disappeared many times, fueling the mystery and possible conspiracies from some people. He’s never bothered to look at the details, but now he has been compelled.

Artist: MAGNUS EISENHARDT  
Year: c. 1847  
Type: Tronie  
Material: Oil on canvas  
Dimensions: 44.5 cm x 39 cm (17.5 in x 15 in)  
Location: ENGLAND  
Last known appearance: 1981

Erik has been staring at the screen. It’s probably a coincidence. Magnus is his middle name and Eisenhardt is his mother’s family name. Nothing made sense anymore, only the magnetic depth he’s indulged ever since he’s invited Charles Xavier into his forlorn life. 

That night he dreamt of the mysterious man for what felt like an eternity.

_“Do you think me handsome?” Two men sat across one another playing chess. Charles had come to Magnus’ chambers nearly every night to indulge in a game. It was also when they could talk about more intimate conversations regarding politics, their lives, and possibly interests. They had been introduced through Charles’ uncle who thought Magnus could potentially be a good influence._

_“Do you really need to ask?” Charles had intent etched on his features, an amusement settling in. Magnus reached out and caught the young man’s hand before it could pick up one the Knight piece. His fingers moved to round around the other’s hand, a thumb caressing Charles’ skin._

_“Let us continue this while I paint you some more.” In a matter of moments Magnus had led Charles to his station near his bed. There was a stool nearby where Charles sat, Magnus’ hand still enclosed around him. Charles adjusted on the stool, parting his legs invitingly. Magnus slid between them and interlaced their fingers together._

_“Must you tease me?” Charles whispered. Magnus leaned closer, mouth close enough to unleash a warm breath upon Charles’ face, but not enough to close the distance between their lips. He simply added._

_“Be good and I might indulge.” He let go of Charles, stepping away and made his way to the painting he had been working on. He prepped the oils paints while Charles adjusted himself. After some time passed, Charles had let out a small whine._

_“Erik, please.” Magnus halted his paintbrush before tapping the tip upon an area he was fond of, Charles’ eyes. He liked that Charles had taken to calling him by his middle name, something of which he never allowed anyone else to do. Magnus took the pipe he had been smoking from as a relaxer inducer and took one long puff before the smoke released in a reasonable sized smoke ring. He placed it in a secure location on his desk. After taking off his painting apron, he walked over to Charles and placed his hands on his shoulders._

_“So impatient.” Charles grabbed a handful of the front of his shirt, tugging._

_“It has been nearly two hours.” Magnus laughed at that and finally indulged the young man, capturing his mouth and kissing him thoroughly. After all, it had always been hard to resist Charles._

Another pleasant dream, Erik noted. He had woken up with his mouth still able to taste a hint of something sweet. He thought he could also smell oil paints. He wasn’t sure when it started, but there were days when his reality blurred. Erik, completely naked, got out of bed and walked around to gaze upon the painting of Charles. He ended up standing there for almost an hour before he heaved a sigh and walked to the bathroom. It was probably going to be another uneventful day. All he could think is that he would like Charles to crawl out of the painting so he might properly feel him. How long before dreams would not be enough?

It has been 3 weeks, two days, five hours, and 22 minutes since he’s started projecting and has lived the life of Magnus in his nightly dreams.

_“I am expected to marry and have children,” Charles pouts as he plays with the button of Magnus’ shirt. After another session that had concluded the painting as finished, Charles had taken advantage of Magnus sitting on the bed to rest. He had boldly crawled onto his lap, settling his legs over each thigh, essentially trapping him down. Magnus had been leaning against his bed frame, a bit tired, but happy. “It is quite tedious.”_

_“What do you expect me to do?” Magnus knows their affair had to end at some point, but he refuses to let it. He’s not holding onto Charles as if he might be taken away. He can’t help but chuckle at the response given._

_“Why don’t you steal me away?” They both know that is not how it works; Magnus is tempted. He wonders if they could run away. They both are not hurting for money, and Magnus had long ago ceased to care what people were thinking. He wants to take advantage of the privilege they have been given. Magnus had grown up poor, earning his small fortune. It was not as massive as Charles’, but he could give him what little in comparison he had._

_“I might take you up on that.” Charles kissed him, both wanting to satisfy more than surface desires and give into more explicit needs. Their tongues are meshing, Charles now biting down on his bottom to elicit a moan. Magnus reaches to take off Charles’ shirt, needing to feel the hot touch of skin underneath his exploring hands._

The images are cut short and Erik had now woken up with a rise in the sheets and a classic case of morning wood. He gets up to go into the shower and take care of himself. He really ought to be embarrassed, but Erik shrugs it away. The dreams have started to become more realistic. How could he not start feeling the physical effects?

_“I saw them kissing in the garden. It is so shameful.”_

_“I wonder how Lord Xavier feels about his son indulging in such acts. There had always been rumors of that painter. He’s corrupted the young lord. Something must be done.”_

_“I agree.” Magnus had been buying more paints when he heard the conversation. Before they could see him, he ran out. It was now only a matter of time before they might be torn apart. He must move quickly._

_That day he spends compiling a letter that sums up his ambitious regard for the young noble. He drops it off to one of the waiting staff at the Xavier mansion, knowing he is not able to see Charles until tonight. He has to be patient even if his heart is full of sorrow._

_The Xavier family had taken Magnus on as their painter for the summer. What he had not expected had been to deeply fall in love with the stubborn heir. Magnus recalled their first meeting when Charles’ uncle had ushered him into a bristling event welcoming the newcomers._

_“Have you met my nephew? He’s an upcoming brilliant to-be scholar. He has come to visit for the summer.” Charles had been sitting on a lavish chair, looking bored. Once he caught sight of Magnus, he had animated and with his charms, attempted to capture Magnus’ attention at any opportunity he could all night. There had been guests whom wanted his attention, yet Charles refused to stop staring at only him. Magnus knew then that he would end up asking the noble to sit in on a painting session. It has led to the inevitable. ___

__He’s sitting at the corner where his couch is and has his hands over his head. Erik wants to look at the painting, but he’s unable to though the haze of confusion. The emotions he’s been entrapped with have been a sense of falling in love. How could he possibly be living another man’s life while it felt so goddamn _real_? _ _

__“What are you trying to tell me?” Erik finally manages to look up at Charles, and he thinks he may look a bit sadder. He wants to ease that away and be able to bask in the smile he’s grown fond of studying once more._ _

__Charles Xavier has managed to overtake every part of his life and now he cannot possibly live without him. Erik is nearly desperate, a heaviness on his chest. His frustration is enough to rip him apart from the inside. He’s been transforming, the paint wanting to claim him. Erik has known for a while. It was only a matter of waiting for permission._ _

__“Take me to you.”_ _

__Erik, unable to properly focus, ends up going for a run that night before bed. He wants to feel the burn of his muscles as they are worked with a sprint. When he gets back to shower, he finds a few texts asking if he’s okay. All he could think is that he needs to be with Charles._ _

__That night he only dreams of two occurrences._ _

_Charles is staring at the letter that has arrived for him. After a long day of forcing to socialize with his uncles’ acquaintances, he is now able to relax. He is elated, almost giddy as he reads Magnus’ promised confession. They have been seeing one another behind secret doors and pretenses of two close men that respected one another in budding friendship._

_Magnus’ painting is finished and on display in his room. It’s lovely, and he could see it had been painted with an intricate thought indicating a fondness for its subject. Charles has never felt like this, and although he knows larger society might condemn them, he was willing to take the risk._

_‘My beloved Charles,_

_I envy your optimism, your untroubled mind. You live in a world filled with little anguish. I have been dealt a bad hand ever since I was forced out of my own country. Yet, I find myself with some of that optimism. You are quite enchanting. I know as I write this to you that I have indulged in a carnage sin. I do not care. Society deems my regard towards you as a passage for the flames underneath the earth. If you allow me, I want us to find our own way. Money is no issue. If you will have me, I promise you a paradise away from everyone. I call it Genosha. It is of my figment imagination, but it is a place where you and I are not ostracized for what we may feel towards one another. Let us find a place somewhere out there together. I await your answer._

_I offer you my hand. My heart. My love, until death do us part._

_Yours,  
Erik' _

_Across town, there’s a loud sound of a gunshot going off._

__Erik wakes up in sweat and finds he has been crying. He had taken a nap, tired from work and now it was nearly the AM. There’s an odd sensation as he looks at his hands and sees splatters of paint molding into his skin and transforming into the texture of an oil painting. He tries to calm his breathing as he rubs underneath his forearm, the illusion gone. The tears continue over two lovers who couldn’t be together. He finally understands. He knows it in his soul that somehow he is Magnus, if not in a past life. Charles and Magnus’ story had ended in tragedy. There were nights when he woke and thought he smelled the faint smoke of a gun going off. It haunted him. Charles had intended to meet Magnus, but he never got to. The last image before he woke had been of someone shooting Magnus after finding out how deep his Bachelorhood ran, too intolerant._ _

__He never thought he might get to that part, never quite wanting to believe what he managed to salvage with his research. In the summer of 1847, it had been found out Magnus and Charles had been having a scandalous affair. The painting and Charles Xavier had soon disappeared shortly after finding about Magnus’ fate. No one had known where both went and it would become a perpetual mystery. The accounts ended there when he had first researched Charles Xavier, a young heir to a large fortune that had disappeared._ _

__Erik now understood why. The shared grief boiled at the surface and beyond the rage, Erik soon found a point of serenity. He had found Charles and that is what mattered. The full moon filtered through his window and without another glance he felt the pull once more, this time invitingly tugging on him._ _

__The night seemed different, not like the others. Something had snapped within Erik. He rises and goes over to the painting. It almost feels like it might be the last time._ _

__“We’ve suffered enough.”_ _

__Charles’s eyes are closed, his head bowed. Erik is reaching out and then there’s something obscure, rapidly becoming clearer, at the end of the intense pull he’s been feeling. The sense of serenity heightens and then there is a blinding flash that could have been seen from across the street. Charles is now looking at him, the smile back on his face. Erik is ready to embrace him. He hears the voice he’s been all too familiarized with in his dreams._ _

__“I have been waiting for you.”_ _

The rain pattered steadily against the window of an empty room. 

__It has been nearly a week since Raven has checked up on Erik. Their company had partially sent her out, but more so she had been unable to reach Erik through any means and she needed to see that he was all right. She entered the apartment with her spare key. When Erik had moved into his flat and garnered a friendship with Raven, he had insisted she have a spare key. He had often needed someone to check in on him. He disclosed he had never been good at making friends or keeping company. It did not help that he had a work-at-home job._ _

__“You better have a good excuse on why you have been dodging my phone calls, Lehnsherr.” She made her way and rounded the corner of the hallway leading into the living room. She immediately gasped, dropping her keys. She quickly leaned down to grab them and then looked back up, hoping it had just been a trick of the light. Raven stepped back, slight fear settling on her face. It couldn’t be possible._ _

__The painting that had once only held Charles Xavier now had Erik next to him. He was etched on there as if he had been there all along, painted alongside Xavier. Despite the hesitance, she stepped forward to examine it closer. Erik looked peaceful, more than he had ever been in the couple of months. She often wondered if he had been lonely, but never truly acknowledged it. For once, Erik looked more content _there_ than he had in the last year._ _

__Raven searched the apartment, but Erik was nowhere to be found. She then jolted when her phone alerted her had missed a call. She swore she had not had any new messages last she checked. However, it was undeniably there. Erik had sent her a voicemail. Raven didn’t further question it and pressed start. It had to explain something._ _

_I need to go to him. He’s there, waiting, for me. There’s been a burden in my heart for so long, and now I can finally be content. He’s there. I will be too._

__The room itself felt more eerie, but ultimately serene. All that could be seen in the painting now were of two lovers, satisfied with only each other’s company._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Once more I am inspired by a Bach Gia fanvid video. It is titled The Haunted Painting. I did not follow it fully, but it did fuel this idea.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qds2AiTVWS8&list=FLqYHT1-9dGX_-cempW1bHUA&index=6&t=26s


End file.
